"The Grey Kingdom campaign... feels like it happened ages ago."

"Just because of some precious magical ore deposit, they decided to wipe out the human Grey Kingdom."

"Those Autocratic Demon Generals... Tch."

Isabella and Roy shared the same hatred, naturally holding no favorable impression of those tyrants.

In truth, they truly were... a despicable bunch.

Some were incurably arrogant.

Some were consumed by envy.

Some were greedy as tigers.

Some were lecherous beyond measure—even eyeing Roy when he was still a young boy...

Whenever His Majesty the Demon King mentioned them, his most frequent remark was:

—"How can Demonfolk be properly governed when working alongside such vermin!"

Yet currently, Roy himself struggled to govern even his own faction.

His actual power base was limited to the Demon King’s Castle in Ymir’s Capital.

And even that was largely inherited from his mother, Serasia.

Without Serasia anchoring the Demon King’s Castle, this young Demon King—lacking credentials, achievements, and any display of terrifying power—would likely be overthrown in no time.

If managing just the Demon King’s Castle was this difficult, imagine the seven great fortresses spanning the vast Demonfolk territories.

Each Autocratic Demon General ruled their fortress like a local Demon King.

It resembled Roy’s past life—no, his life before that—where history spoke of the "Zhou Son of Heaven and his feudal lords."

He was the Zhou sovereign, nominally ruler of all demons.

But his limbs moved with minds of their own, refusing his command.

The other Autocratic Demon Generals were like those feudal lords—each wielding formidable power and entrenched interests, their domains impenetrable as fortresses.

To change this, Roy seemingly had to wait for the Hero’s arrival.

Wait until he became the acknowledged "King of This World."

Only then would the youth wield true royal authority.

No longer relying on his mother’s intimidation.

After all, the hope of Demonfolk restoration rested solely on his shoulders.

Of course, in this world, only Demonfolk called "world domination"...

"Restoration."

Even maintaining their current vast territories and savoring other races’ fear wasn’t enough.

Such an arrogant race.

But as their king, Roy had no path but to stand with his people!

Especially since he, too, had lost everything with searing pain.

He understood the obsession woven through nearly a millennium of Demonfolk history:

—I fight not to prove my greatness, but to reclaim what was stolen from me!

Every race agreed on one thing:

The era of Demonfolk rule was brutal and merciless, leaving people destitute.

But this was the story passed down by the goddesses of the Pantheon.

The Abyssal Goddess whom Demonfolk worshipped remained silent.

Her very existence uncertain.

………………

In the lost Abyssal Goddess Temple, Isabella reappeared on the teleportation circle.

This time, she carried more than just longing for her master.

She held intelligence on that Demon General.

Though her master hadn’t explained why he needed such elaborate inquiries about a fellow demon,

He must have his own plans.

So Isabella followed the principle: ask less, act more. Striving to be his capable partner.

Eoliel was divided into Outer and Inner Cities.

The Outer City’s lax defenses housed commoners and merchants, bustling with outside trade—making infiltration easy for Isabella.

The Inner City sheltered Radiant Church clergy and Eoliel’s ancient nobility.

Strict hierarchy. Impenetrable security.

True powerhouses resided in the Church, backed by kingdom-class adventurers.

Though none matched her master’s strength,

If he revealed his identity as Demon King here, even he’d face dire trouble.

Any non-human entering underwent ruthless scrutiny.

Disguised as an Elvenfolk bard under daylight, Isabella slipped into the city unchallenged.

Elves possessed unique tracking magic to locate her master.

But using it by day would draw too much attention.

Instead, she relied on a tracking magic stone infused with his power, following its directional glow.

"Southeast."

The elf maiden murmured, heading southeast.

Halfway there, the stone’s glow shifted northwest.

At the northwest gate, it changed direction again.

Back and forth it led her, until Isabella gritted her pearl-white teeth.

*Master… can’t you stay still for once?!*

Just as her chest heaved with frustration—

A voice, sweet as honey yet still boyish, brushed against her long ear.

"Pretty Elf sister~ Today’s potions are on special! Care to take a look?"

"Whether healing wounds or preserving beauty, the Herbalist Guild has you covered."

The practiced sales pitch wasn’t particularly charming.

But paired with the youth’s delicate features and a smile brighter than sunlight…

Her hand seemed to drift toward her coin purse without permission.

Isabella’s irritation vanished, replaced by fluttering warmth.

"Mas—"

The boy lifted a slender finger to his lips, his radiant smile unwavering.

Isabella clapped a hand over her own mouth.

Clearing her throat, cheeks flushing, she gestured to the small herb basket on his back.

"I’ll take all your potions."

"Is there… any special service?"

"Customer?! I’m an upstanding apprentice of the Herbalist Guild!"

A flicker of playful distress crossed his fair face.

Isabella burned crimson, feeling like a villainess trying to buy his innocence.

"N-no, I meant—!"

"But if an Elf sister insists so earnestly… I suppose I have no choice~"

"Eh?"

Only then did Isabella realize—

She’d been teased by His Majesty the Demon King.

But concern outweighed embarrassment.

"Master! You don’t actually offer… special services to girls who buy all your potions, do you?!"

The Elven Maid chased Roy into a shadowed alley, her voice frantic.

Roy shrugged helplessly.

"Do I look like someone who sells himself so easily?"

"But you just said—"

"That was only for you, my dear Isabella."

Amusement laced his tone.

Unnoticed by her, even Isabella’s ears had flushed crimson.